“You lied to me,” he said against her ear. “You’re still wearing your panties.” He ran his hand under the slim band of silk on her hip.
“Knickers,” she corrected, aware of his naked body against hers.
“And you made me come,” he said, cupping her breasts, his cock stirring against the softness of her behind as her nipples hardened in his fingers.
“It is your birthday,” she said, leaning her head back on his shoulder.
“It is.” Not such a bad thing to have been found out after all, Dylan reflected.
They stood for a second, caught up in each other, Dylan savouring the feel of Kara’s responsive body in his hands, Kara savouring the feel of Dylan’s questing hands on her body.
He moved then, returning a moment later with his jeans tugged on and his shirt in his hands.
“Put this on. There’s something we need to do.”
"Let's do it here," she said, not wanting to do anything that didn't involve his hands between her legs.
He laughed under his breath. "Just put the shirt on, English. I'll make it worth the wait."
He helped her into his shirt, and gathered their belongings in his arms before leading her out through the club. He flicked the alarms on as he locked up, then led Kara out to the Mustang, the only car left on the small staff parking lot.
Dylan deposited their stuff on the driver’s seat.
“I’ve fantasised about this for days, English,” he murmured, lifting her lightly and sitting her on the folded-back material of the convertible roof. He swung himself over the edge of the car to kneel in front of her on the back bench seat, implausibly sexy and shirtless by moonlight.
“My shirt looks good on you,” he said, opening it to reveal her breasts to his waiting eyes and mouth.
“I might keep it forever,” she said, bracing her hands behind her, letting the material slide back on her shoulders as he licked the sensitive undersides of her breasts. She sighed a little when his hand moved to touch her between her legs.
“This feels like the best teenage date ever,” she said, breathless as he pulled her knickers to the side.
“The girls back home never looked like you do right now,” he said, and slid his fingers all the way inside her.
Kara gasped down a big lungful of the balmy Spanish night air.
“The boys back home never made me feel the way you do right now,” she managed to say. Just.
The idea of anyone else touching Kara like this triggered his kill instinct for a few seconds.
“Thank fuck for that.”
Dylan hunkered down and buried his head between her legs, his mouth hot all over her.
She tasted sweet as sugar, of longing, and of frustration, the best birthday surprise he’d ever had.
He let his eyes roam up over her curves as he tasted her, over her swells and her hollows, and his heart contracted.
He loved this woman.
Kara leaned her head back and looked up at the stars. He had her spread wide, exposed and vulnerable, yet she’d never felt as safe and secure with anyone in her life. Dylan drew her clitoris into the heat of his mouth and took his time over making sure that even when she’d buried her hands in his hair and screwed her eyes tight shut to absorb the bone-drenching pleasure, she could still see stars.
Chapter Thirty-One
Sophie opened her eyes slowly. Dawn sunlight shafted through the gauze curtains onto Lucien, turning her sleeping Viking into a fallen angel.
Today was the day she’d become his wife. His fingers were curled loosely around hers as he slept and she tightened her grip on them as she closed her eyes again, thanking her lucky stars for the love of the best man in the world.
Aboard the Love Tug, Dylan stirred. Kara slept beside him tangled in the white cotton sheets, her skin lustrous gold from a summer spent working and playing beneath the Spanish sunshine. The sun had added blonde streaks to her tawny waves too, and to Dylan’s eyes she surpassed any of the surf-streaked Californian beach beauties back home.
Back home. Dylan frowned at the thought. California didn’t feel like home anymore. His home was here in Ibiza now, but he knew that for Kara it had always been intended as a temporary arrangement, a secondment for a few months over the summer while the boutique established itself under local management. She had a whole life to return to back in England: family, friends. Sophie and Lucien too, because they’d be heading back to the UK a couple of weeks after the wedding.
It was all ending. He’d let himself live the lie for long enough, had kept awarding himself an extra roll of the dice to give himself more time as Dylan Day, more time in this gilded bubble of pleasure with Kara.
He’d allow the dice roll to in his favour as far as the wedding, but then that was it. No more. He’d stand beside Lucien as his best man, he’d dance with the most beautiful bridesmaid he’d ever lay eyes on, and then he’d confess his dark secrets and let the chips fall where they will.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Champagne for the bride,” Kara carried two full flutes into Sophie’s bedroom, dressed in a cream silk slip with her hair wound around velcro rollers. She set one glass of bucks fizz down on Sophie’s dressing table and sipped from the other. “Don't worry, yours is mostly orange juice," she grinned. “How are you doing?”
“Good,” Sophie raised her glass with a smile a mile wide.
“This is probably the coolest wedding ever,” Kara said happily. “Hardly any guests, sand under your toes, and champagne on tap.”
Sophie sipped her fizz. “Yeah, well, I did the big dress and party number last time around, remember?”
This was the second time that Kara had been Sophie’s bridesmaid. She made a rueful face, casting her mind back for a moment to Sophie’s wedding to Dan, her first husband. It all seemed so long ago now, and they’d all done a lot of growing up since those days.
“Jeez, remember your mum? She was practically hysterical by the time the wedding day actually arrived. Thank God you’re getting married while they’re not around,” Kara said. “I don’t think she’d be able to stand it all over again. Especially with it being shot-gun, and all.” Her mock-scandalised gaze dropped dramatically to the almost imperceptible swell of Sophie’s tummy.
Sophie laughed. Kara had a point. Her mother had no desire to reprise her role as mother of the bride; she’d found it terribly stressful first time around, almost as stressful as she’d found her only daughter’s divorce. Lucien had of course charmed her parents completely in the intervening years; even her father seemed to enjoy his son-in-laws company. They all got along like a house on fire, under the tacit understanding that no one mentioned Lucien’s line of business under any circumstances. Her parents liked to consider themselves liberal, just as long as no one used the ‘sex’ word.
Still, they’d been thrilled to hear about the wedding plans, delighted to hear about the new baby, and ecstatic at the thought of throwing a small wedding party at the golf club when they were all back in England in a few weeks time. At this precise moment, Sophie’s parents were enjoying a long-anticipated cruise, and the timing could not have been more fortuitous for all concerned.
“Yes, I think it’s worked out pretty well for everyone,” Sophie agreed.
She eyed herself in the mirror. In just a few hours she would finally become Lucien’s wife. The fact that she’d been someone’s wife before hadn’t even figured in her thoughts in the days leading up to the wedding, because this felt brand new. Being Mrs. Knight would bear absolutely no relation to the time she’d spent as Mrs. Black.
In truth, being Mrs. Knight was a unique proposition: their relationship hadn’t followed any of the conventional patterns and she had no doubt that their marriage would be all the stronger for it. They knew each other so very well now.